Cruella De Vil: Forbidden
by 101ideas
Summary: As Big Ben Chimes, Cruella De Vil is awakened from her puppy loving nightmare known as Ella De Vil, and becomes filled with a terribel resolve. To enact her revenge and finally get her puppy coat, she employs the help of Jean Pierre Le Pelt, who she shares a mysterious and forgotten past with. She begins to remember more and more about her old life,and meets new faces along the way
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! This is my first fanfic I will be doing. I was inspired to do a story on Glenn Close's Cruella De Vil, my favorite female character of all time, by the fanfic "Cruella De Vil Life After Prison" by SelenaMDV. Like that fanfic, This will be Centered on Cruella De Vil, as she returns to her old self in 102 Dalmatians. This patricular story will be a focus and recreation of the relationship between Cruella and LePelt. At first, the dialogue will follow the movie pretty closely, but as time goes on, I will write in a lot of new dialogue and interactions. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The fire light of the torches flicked wickedly against the stone walls that seemed to suck in every drop of light, swallowing the glowing red without mercy. It was if a portal was opened inside the once grand and welcoming warmth of the great Manor, and it lead directly to the deepest layer of hell, a layer of hell in which the Devil was about to reclaim her throne.

"Pull! Pull!" Cruella shouted at Alonzo, her weak and trusting assistant. Just weeks ago, Alonzo had felt the gentle touch of her delicate hand across his face, and now she was commanding him, like a slave driver would command a slave to work. In the tender embrace of that memory, Alonzo didn't feel like a slave, he deluded himself into thinking he meant something to Cruella, and that the only thing keeping them from forming a closer relationship was the iron hide that just earlier that afternoon had reformed itself around her heart. Cruella knew better ,though. The object of her desire was not the servant pathetically trying to open the door she demanded access too, her desire, her passion, her hellfire, lie just beyond that door

"Stand aside, Worm!" Cruella commanded, as she gripped Alonzo by the collar and tossed him against the stone wall, his small frame crumbling into the black corner like a forgotten piece of furniture. An unparalleled rage Rose in Cruella, partly because Alonzo could not fulfill the task she gave him, and partly because this task only existed because of what he did to her. That disgusting pig , he took from her soul the one thing she loved in this world, and made her mad crazy at the sight of it. When she, or rather Ella, had returned back to De Vil Manor after her prison sentence, it was not safe. She was surprised that Ella had not had Alonzo burn it, she's thankful that the fear of burning flesh was also very prevalent in her. This rage, however, was nothing new to Cruella, it was her second best quality. The number of times she had taken male designers and tossed them several meters back, out of her office, and onto the floor, would have made anyone who had not known of Cruella De Vil laugh at the idea. That was the Beauty of Cruella, like a tiger, she was lethal, while at the same time being absolutely gorgeous, a deadly combo.

She took hold of the wooden planks that barred the door shut, and pulled. What was once a sturdy oak plank had now been reduced to the strength of a popsicle stick, as Cruella screamed, she tore it off effortlessly, and chucked it backwards at Alonzo, further punishment for disobeying her. In less than ten seconds, the door was free, a pile of wooden planks laying behind her. As Cruella opened the door, which bear resemblance to the shape of an iron maiden, she stood stunned. Her love, her heart, her soul, lay before her. She stepped forward, slowly turned, and fell back, into the pile of fur.

"Oh mummy's home, and i'll never leave you again!" Cruella cried as she took every fur around her and gripped it tight, greeting each piece as if it was a lost child. As Alonzo looked in on Cruella, he found it remarkable how happy a few pieces of fur could make someone, especially someone like her. As Cruella lay across her beautiful furs, she slowly became perplexed. She sat up,her fits of laughter turning into frustration, hitting her clenched fist against the fur that she, only a moment ago, swore to never abandon. Cruella sat up, dissatisfied with her situation, she looked up to Alonzo, demanding answers from him. "Why do I feel incomplete? What could be missing from my life? Cruella De Vil who has it all! The softest, the rarest, the whitest, the blackest, the strippiest, the spottiest, the-" at the mention of that word, the dam holding back the memories in Cruella's head burst, and with it a flood of emotion. "The Spots!" she thought "My beautiful coat! And...him" Cruella soon remembered an evening in Paris, alone with that man, surveying a freshly delivered crate of illegally poached chinchilla fur skins. Perhaps the only man she didn't despise, Jean-Pierre Le Pelt. She had to respect this man, hardly a man at all when she first met him, She being 26 and he being 19 at the time, a weazel poacher from the south of France, she took a chance on him, and it turned into the most confusing time in her life, she felt things she had never felt before, and hated herself for ever thinking such things. Those thoughts were forbidden in her eyes, a distraction from her business, from her domination. Cruella swore to never let something as idiotic as a man conquer her heart, and come between her and her furs.

Cruella snapped back at the thought of her fur, staring daggers at alonzo. "Where is it? Where? Where is it?!" as soon as she looked to her right, Cruella saw it. Illuminated by the massive cauldron of flame at the center of the stone cave, against the wall, was her new object of desire. As Cruella gets up, her knees weaken at the sight of the drawing, her hands trembling at the touch of the sketch paper, her long black claws gently stroking the parchment. "My dalmatian puppy coat, the coat of dreams, the ultimate fur coat!" the word dalmatian brings out the rage in Cruella once more "My coat, which was denied me by that canine cabal, for which I have lost THREE YEARS OF MY LIFE!" Cruella shouted in a rage she did not even sense building up inside of her. Nevertheless, She was not about to sit in her pile of furs, letting bygones be bygones, Cruella was forming a plan, and she would have her puppy coat.

"Alonzo!" she screamed, making him shutter uncontrollably "We are going to make them pay!". Alonzo perked up, smiling "Oh yes Madam, how much?". Cruella rolled her eyes, thinking how idiotic Alonzo was. That thought only a flash in the fiery pan that was Cruella's mind. She schemed as she walked around the cauldron, discussing her plan to kidnap the puppies of her parole officer Chloe Simmon. Alanzo looked on with bewilderment ,  
"S-sounds w-w-wonderful" he forced out.

Alanzo was never a bad kid growing up, but as he started working for Cruella, he found himself involved in many illegal and deplorable acts. He remembers clearly waiting on Cruella and her henchmen, as they gifted her a siberian tiger stole. Not only was this animal endangered, but this particular tiger came straight from the London Zoo, the same zoo in which the two henchmen left the skinned carcass of the tiger. Alonzo instantly had thoughts of reporting the incident to the authorities, but this was Cruella De Vil receiving this gift. Her slim and saultry figure wrapped in her tight black gown, adorned with feathers like a goddess, made alonzo shake as he walked around her room. As her long black nails removed themselves from her face, covering her eyesight in anticipation for her gift, Cruella gasped, taking the tiger stole up the stairs, and wrapping herself seductively in it, marching up to her mirror and asking it "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" the tiger stole, puppeteered by Cruella, replied "You are". Alonzo has moments where he knew he was on love with Cruella De Vil, and that was one of them. She looked like a temptress, a dominating evil queen, taking the life of a beautiful animals just to further her own desire, and Alonzo loved it, after all he himself was a naturally submissive man, why wouldn't he fall in love with a woman as dominating as Cruella. "No" Alonzo thought "I don't think I will report this". Now, three years later in the secret cave basement under the De Vil manor, Alonzo was thinking the same thing.

"Alonzo!" Cruella Screamed again, jolting Alonzo out of his trance, "I need you!"  
"I'm yours!" he replied, eager from his memories to prove to her he was loyal.

Cruella was aware of Alonzo's feelings, but make no mistake, She only kept him around because she knew her illegal activities would go unhindered by him. All it took was a wink here, a outfit with no underwear there, and within a month of his original employment, Alonzo was seduced by Cruella De Vil. After that, all Cruella ever did was shout at and hit alonzo, she thinks he liked it more anyways. Either way, Alonzo was just another man she used for her own personal gain.

"Alonzo, I need you to furnish yourself with a torch, a large sack, and rubber soled shoes! Meanwhile, I need a furrier…"

Cruella did not know why she thought of Le Pelt when she remembered her puppy it was because Ella had mentioned him earlier, albeit in a fit of rage, referring to Le Pelt as a murderer. Perhaps it was the illegality of it all, how forbidden her business with Le Pelt was, buying and selling the most rare and expensive furs, from the most endangered animals, Cruella is almost sure that she and Le Pelt are responsible for the extinction of a few different animals, she always claimed to be able to smell when an animal they recently skinned was close to extinction, and she loved it. Forbidden, that was a word that stuck in Cruella's head when she thought of Le Pelt. Like the apple on the tree of knowledge, and Cruella the beautiful Eve, she wanted another bite, even though she has been told not to go near. Despite fur being the only thing she ever admitted to loving, Cruella cannot help but bring Le Pelt in on this plan, wanting to rekindle the partnership they had years ago. "Strictly business" Cruella thought to herself.

She looked back at Alonzo, "And I know just where to find him!"  
With that, Cruella gave a diabolical laugh, and bolted towards her room. She had a mission, and it started with the London Le Pelt Fur Fashion Show. 


	2. Chapter 2: Reunion

Fog poured off of the stage as the models paraded down the catwalk, showing of the ensembles of fur. One model came striding out in a form fitting full length maxi dress with shoulder pads, zig zag pattern splitting half black, half tiger print, holding a gigantic mink muff , with her blonde hair done up in a massive geyser like shape

"Looks like a palm tree" Cruella thought, but she wasn't one to shy away from daring hairstyles herself. Another model came gliding down the runway in a fully lynx baby-doll coat dress, the skirt and hem ruffled over in layers of the softest and plushiest lynx fur she had ever seen, the waist bound by a golden sash, with almost the entire top being a massive, perfectly circular hood configuration, in which the models upper body lie naked, breast almost peeking out, it was like a fur cradle for a queen, as Cruella's eyes glazed over, she thought to herself that the hood alone must consist of at least 6 lynx pelts. That was the thing about Jean Pierre, he always used too many animals on one project, or too contrasting colors, or not enough blah blah blah, it didn't matter because critiques always complained, but after they debuted, what was "too much" was now the new norm.

"Always the trend setter, second only to yours truly" Cruella thought as she basked in her own accomplishments, her own private battles between Monsieur Le Pelt and The House of De Vil, the largest fashion world feud, ended only when she was arrested for dog napping.

"Pitty, that coat would have put Monsieur Le Pelt into bankruptcy". Cruella's thought was interrupted, and she quickly became disgusted at the most bland looking evening gown she had ever seen, with the only fur being around the breast and pelvis, being worn by a model who looked like she had been rolled over on roadkill, but when she reached the end of the stage, the model ripped of the fabric covering her midriff and legs, revealing the most scrumptious looking snow leopard two piece. Dropping the jaws of every man in the crowd, Cruella pictured herself sporting Le Pelt's newest swimsuit creation. She then continued her thought, like an explorer observing an animal thought to be extinct "Or perhaps Monsieur Le Pelt has more surprises up his sleeve then I thought".

As the models came and went, Cruella thought back to her days of modelling. It was her first passion, modelling the furs she had loved to look at while sewing and sketching, and fur was more popular then than it had ever been. She was confident she could do the job with triple the skill of these models, while being about a decade older to boot. The modelling had another purpose, though, with her and Jean Pierre engaged in highly illegal activity, they had to find a way to smuggle the fur around. "Why Monsieur Le Pelt" Cruella would say to him in a mocking, playful voice "We hide it in plane sight!".

Before her memories could finish being placed down, the reminiscing of her catwalk days ended, and at the thought of his name, he appeared. Standing at the far end of the catwalk, surrounded by the clapping models who presented his creations, the deity of fur himself came rounding the corner, out of the smoke. With the aid of a very pompous looking walking staff, Jean Pierre came lumbering down the runway with a massive tiger fur coat with fox sleeves and collar. As he walked further down, his lumber became more of a powerful and confident stride, as he tossed his staff aside and turned around, back facing the crowd. "What are you up to, Frenchman?" Cruella thought to herself.

As soon as he'd turned around, Jean Pierre whipped open his coat, exposing himself to the models that still stand at the far end of the runway. The crowd gasped, a beautiful young blonde in the row behind Cruella gave out a delighted scream, putting her hand over her mouth. To many women who adored fur, and attended these shows, the hulking frenchmen was quite the looker, and the idea of him undressing onstage had obviously excited the short haired blonde, along with many other women in the crowd. But Cruella only smiled and rolled her eyes, as Jean Pierre turned around, whipping the coat off to reveal he wasn't actually naked, but rather wearing a tight leather shirt, with black fox fur coating the upper shoulders and waist, and a jaguar kilt. To most people, the distinction between jaguar and cheetah was difficult, but it seemed as though Jean Pierre had solved this problem, by mounting the distinctive jaguar head on the crotch of the kilt. He presented himself like a king, to the adoring fan girls gushing with laughter and applause in the crowd, and again Cruella rolled her eyes. "Just like I remember him, bold Frenchman" she thought.

As she began to lightly clap, a group of people rushed in front of the stage. Most people here were dressed in the latest fashions, including the latest furs from other designers. But when these people came to the front of the stage, the first words that came to Cruella's head were "homeless shelter", and she knew immediately who these people were. Dressed in ripped denim and worn flannel, holding signs and buckets, and chanting "murderer", the protestors doused Jean Pierre in buckets of fake imitation blood, ruining the piece that moments ago he had so graciously gifted to the fashion crowd let out a gasp, and then began screaming in horror at the demonstrators. Police and security guards quickly rushed to the stage, grabbing the PETA protesters as they continued to chant and shout.

Cruella was disgusted in a whole new way tonight, and began to boil and rage in her seat. She quickly calmed herself, remembering what her parole officer Chloe Simon had said, "If you go anywhere near fur, i'll put you straight back in prison". For that reason Cruella had hid her face with a decorative masquarding mask, and a dark black beaded veil. No one had approached her throughout the night, so the disguise must be working well, since she was still one of the biggest names in fur fashion, she would have been swarmed the minute she stepped foot in the building if she were recognized. It was also for what Chloe had said that made Cruella so devilishly giddy at what she has instore for her puppies. The night before she left to come see the fashion show, as she lay in her furs, playing and stroking them, being utterly in love, she giggled at the idea of Chloe crying over the sight of her skinned puppies, as Cruella wears the puppy coat of her dreams in front of an adoring crowd. The thought of being embraced in the warmth of her furs put her back in the moment, back in the seat, and back looking at Jean Pierre. She was growing tired with associating the love of fur with him. Cruella hypothesized that, because of the flood of merories coming in, the love of fur she had was beginning to seep into the memories of her and Jean Pierre.

"Surely I couldn't have feelings for him,I'm Cruella De Vil! I love no one!" she laughed to herself the night before in bed, surrounded by a chinchilla blanket.

Cruella reminded herself of this at least a dozen times before coming to tonight's show, but to no avail, her mind wanders when Jean Pierre is in the room. As he stood there, covered in the bright red imitation blood, Jean Pierre went wild eyed, and began to approach the protesting crowd, but paused, and turned back around, following his fleeing models off of the stage. Cruella remembers reading in the paper about another protester at one of Jean Pierre's shows, and that unlucky fellow didn't have the luxury of the police getting to him in time, as Jean Pierre had reportedly "snapped the demonstrators arm in over 4 different places", according to what Cruella could remember reading. I guess Jean Pierre had calmed down since then, because the sight of him scurrying away with the rest of the models made Cruella scoff. "Maybe you weren't as bold as I thought, Frenchy". Cruella held respect on the edge of a knife, and her respect for Jean Pierre was just slightly cut, and just like that one of Cruella's devilish ideas was born. "Well, what's fair is only fair" she said to herself as she stood up and approached the group of now detained protesters. She approached one of the police officers directly, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Officer" She said loudly over the rush of the crowd escaping the now ruined show

The officer, struggling with the man who had thrown the fake blood onto Jean Pierre, replied to her, out of breath "Oi yes ma'am, what is it?"

"Well, I noticed that these awful people had ruined Monsieur Le Pelt's wonderful show, and you fine men in uniform rushed in to save us from these beast" she said in a polite tone, with an undertone of pouty innocence to it "I would like to extend my sincere gratitude" as she said this, Cruella pulled out a £100 note, and cautiously slid it into the officers front breast pocket. The officer looked at Cruella, "And do make sure that -Inept here gets very special treatment" She said as she patted the detained man on the head rather forcefully, making him wince. The officer nodded understandingly, and with the protester in a double arm bar in one arm, the officer took his club in his free hand and raised it in the air, "Oh c'mon you bum!" the officer shouted as he slammed his baton down on the demonstrators head, making him drop instantly and cry in pain. The officer then kicked the wincing man, as Cruella looked on with a pleasurable smile. As much as she'd like to stand there and watch this man get beaten for what he'd done (or just to hear the sound of a suffering animal), Cruella had a mission, and that mission lie in the direction of the massive screaming Frenchman behind stage.

As she began to walk, Cruella heard her name called behind her. Her stomach sank, but she maintained her composure, she'd faced worse. But right now she wasn't facing anything, she continued to walk like she didn't hear her named called.

"Oh, Miss De Vil!" she heard a young woman's voice call behind her, this time closer. Cruella realized the threat would not go away. It only sounded like one woman, it is better that Cruella face a lone heckler than an entire mob of angry people.

Cruella whipped around, to see standing about 3 feet away the young blonde girl that sat behind her during the show. Cruella was not so focused on the crowd, she tried not to draw attention to herself, so she had not seen much of the girl, until now. She was young, possibly early 20's from the fairness of her light skin, she had a short layered haircut, with the sides shaved down to a much shorter length than the rest, and Cruella could see it was definitely more bleached blonde than natural. She had diamond earrings in each ear, a pair of cat eye sunglasses, a formal black high neck dress, and black fox fur coat. Cruella admired the well dressed look, she could tell it was the attire of someone here on business, not just an onlooker.

Ignoring the fashion breakdown Cruella was quickly doing in her head, she instead hissed at the girl "You must have me confused with someone, girl", and went to keep walking, until the girl spoke again.

"Wait, please! I know it's you Miss De Vil!"

More people were beginning to look in the young girls direction, and Cruella took notice. She grabbed the girl by the arm forcefully and took her aside

"Shut up you idiot! You want to get me thrown in the pokey with those PETA freaks? How did you know who I was, speak clear and speak now!"

"When you sit behind hair like yours for an hour and a half, you are a fool if you don't recognize it", the girl spoke in a heightened received pronunciation, with an underlying bold and confident tone, it reminded Cruella of her own voice.

"So? A lot of people dye their hair like me, I'm an icon, what do you expect?"

"Right, but then I recognized your dress. This design is from your chinese new year collection you presented". Cruella remembered that fashion line, why she was there and what she was doing. It was 1988, the chinese year of the dragon, what more fitting than a blazer suit designed to look like a fiery dragon, with a muff of a traditional chinese dragons head. It was fitting for Cruella, she was a dragon in disguise after all. She looked at the girl with a confused look. Plus, she needed something Jean Pierre would easily recognize, something that conveyed she was here as friend, not foe.

"Alright then, what do you want?"

The girl held out a small business card, on it read an address, a company name, and the girls full name. The girl spoke again

"My name is Chrissy Di Ablo, I am the owner and lead designer of Fur-bidden Fashion Inc."

Cruella had her of the small furrier before, based out of downtown london. Only a small boutique before Cruella was arrested, she wondered what the shop was like now, what all the small shops were like now that the House of De Vil had fallen into a state of disrepair.

"Oh, that little corner store shack on Oxford Street, how quaint" Cruella had said in a smug tone.

"Well, since your time 'away' Miss De Vil, I believe you'll find we have expanded a small bit" Chrissy said without missing a beat.

"Assuming your animal loving goody goody phase is over with, which albeit lasted longer than I thought it would for a fur fashion designer of your expertise, why don't you drop by my little 'shack' sometime? I have a feeling you're here for Monsieur Le Pelt, and if you are, then you're probably here for" Chrissy looked around, like a child checking for adults before stealing from the cookie jar "the S-P-O-T-S"

Cruella's eyes widened, and at this Chrissy smiled

"So stop by, we can discuss it further. Ta-ta darling!" the young blonde turned around and strolled off, heels snapping against the hard floor as she did.

Cruella took it in for a moment, was she found out? Was this young girl going to turn her in? She had good reason to, The House of De Vil was still London's biggest fashion house, so the girl would be knocking off a major competitor, at such a young age also, it would solidify her as a name in fashion. If Chloe Simmon heard about this, Cruella would no doubt be going back to prison.

She held the business card in her hands, on it read the address and number of the fashion house, along with the name, Chrissy Di Ablo. Cruella looked at the card and scowled, crumpling it and stuffing it in her pocket.

A loud bang came from behind her, and she turned to face the source of the noise. She saw Jean-Pierre throwing a metal vase out of his trailer door, screaming at two cowering men who worked together to shut the door. "They are animals! They have no class!" She heard him shout at the two men, slamming and breaking more furniture, fake blood dripping off of his fur with every spasm of anger.

Cruella passed several of the models, still dressed in their outfits, in small groups talking about Jean Pierre's current outrage. Cruella walked up two small steps to the trailer door.

"Well, this is it" Cruella thought. Cruella had not spoken to Jean Pierre in some time, not since they had worked together years ago, except on certain occasions for formal business transactions. She took out a small pocket mirror and checked her makeup, made sure her hair looked good, and adjusted her breast. She reminded herself again, this was just business, she needed someone to help with her plan, she needed a knowledgeable furrier. Despite Cruella reinforcing her idea, she was still nervous. She scoffed at her own cowardness, and pushed the nervous feeling down, to replace it with sultry temptation. She knew Jean Pierre could not resist her, the real question was, could she resist him?

She took off her mask, and knocked on the door. A rush of wind tugged at her back side as the door forcefully swung open. In the door frame, dripping in fake blood and sweat, stood Jean Pierre, red faced and muscles straining. "Go away!" he barked in his grizzly french accent, before again slamming the door.

Cruella stood their for a moment in shock. Was that really it? In all those years, was a visit from her really met with that much blunt negativity. Before her complection could even change, though, Jean Pierre threw the door back open, and stood there.

Their eyes locked, and for a moment Cruella felt young again, she felt safe and warm, she felt like she was on a bed of fur, giggling. She smiled.

"Cruella" Jean Pierre had finally forced out. He stood up straight and stood aside from the doorway, welcoming cruella in "Forgive me, my two idiots did not recognize you!" he said, scolding the two assistants.

She smiled, and stepped up and into the trashed dressing trailer. "Only two minions to abuse? Oh Jean Pierre, the world is so unfair" she turned and gave Jean Pierre a faux empathetic look, looking at him with her seductive eyes.

Jean Pierre was frozen, before looking at his assistants and screaming "Out! Get out!" he shoved them out of his trailer forcefully. After slamming the door, he turned back around to Cruella, trying to fix his hair. Cruella smiled, it was no use, he was a mess, but he was charming enough to where it made her laugh. He walked over, motioning for her to take a seat.

"Cruella De Vil, my inspiration, at my show". Despite the makeup, you could still see Cruella blush. He always used to call her those little kick names, "my idol", "my teacher", "my muse", it reminded her of times past. He started pouring a glass of champagne, and continued

"I didn't know you were coming, I am sorry about the demonstrators" he said, referring to the Protesters.

"Demonstrators? I thought they were critiques."

"Well, they certainly would not be the worst critiques I've ever had"

A knock came from the door, and Jean Pierre stormed over to see who it was. Standing there in all his goofy glory was Alonzo, smiling like he was meeting an old friend for lunch. Cruella had him wait out in the car and told him she would be back in an hour. That was three hours ago.

"Go away!" Jean Pierre shouted, slamming the door in Alonzo's face. This time, unlike with Cruella, he didn't open the door back up and apologize. He had no idea who Alonzo was, or that he was with her.

Cruella didn't correct him though. Her mind was somewhere else, somewhere where all that existed was her, this trailer, and Monsieur Le Pelt. Jean Pierre came back over and sat, glass of champagne in his hand.

"Oh John Pierre, you've come such a long way from poaching weasels" Cruella mocked at him.

"We, my dear old friend, we have come such a long way from poaching weasels"

"Now Jean Pierre, are you implying that I was in the same activities you were as a young man? I merely offered some advice, purely business" Cruella mocked in a flirty way. They both knew that the poaching, stealing, and black market fur deals they did were enough to still put them away for life, and they were both heavily involved.

"Speaking of illegal activities" Jean Pierre added "I am happy to see that you are out of prison" he sounded genuine

"Oh yes, horrible experience prison was, if I had known that when we worked together, I might have acted in better judgement"

Jean Pierre paused "So Cruella, or should I say ella?"

"You most certainly should not! I cringe at that name, that mornic Dr. Pavlov made me look like a" Cruella paused "a vegan!" she said with the utmost disgust

"Alright then, Cruella" Jean Pierre continued "I'm glad to see you are not here to tear my head off, I have seen you on the news. You've lost a lot of credibility in this industry since you've been out of prison, probably more so than getting put into prison itself" he spoke softly to her, like a detective describing a scene to her "but I didn't believe it. 'Ridicule!' I said 'The Cruella I know would never give up fur, it's the only thing she's ever loved!" Jean Pierre stopped, and looked almost sad "It had been almost a decade at that time that we last spoke to each other, actually spoke like we meant something to each other! I began to question if I knew you at all! Which brings me to my next question, why are you here, Cruella?"

Cruella thought to herself "The dalmatian coat, you moron! Tell him about the coat!" but no words escaped Cruella's mouth. She never spoke this personally with people, and especially not to Jean Pierre in the last ten years.

"Jean Pierre, I-" just as she was about to speak, Alonzo burst into the room, holding a wiggling burlap sack.

"Who are you little man?! And what are you doing near Cruella?!" Jean Pierre Approached Alonzo aggressively.

Alonzo was beginning to explain as Cruella got up and stormed towards him.

"Alonzo you idiot, you shouldn't have brought them in here!" She said motioning to the bag, then back handing Alonzo across the chest, making him yelp.

"Oh! He's with you!" Jean Pierre responded, giving Alonzo a playful back hand across the chest , to which he groaned annoyingly.

Just as the confusion started to die down, they all heard a whimper from the bag. Jean Pierre looked down, then up at Cruella. "What is this?" he said

At the sound of the whimpering, Cruella remembered her plan, and he began to see spots again. Suddenly Jean Pierre meant little to her, as the grand image of the dalmatian coat slowly creeped its way again into all corners of Cruella's mind, and the french furrier was about to learn his role in her diabolical plan.

"It's your salvation Jean Pierre! I have a new idea, an idea so revolutionary, I'm surprised any other fool hadn't thought of it sooner!"

"You have an idea in the bag"

"Oh, Jean Pierre!" Cruella leaned back, her voice become more shaky and pleasurable at the thought of the dalmatian coat "Together, you and I will make a coat, so soft, so luxurious, so practical in any weather, so bad! That it i'll rip the veils of the eyes of fashion, and write our names in the pantheon of style!"

Jean Pierre walked back over to Alonzo, signalling the butler to open up the sack. As Jean Pierre looked inside, he could see the distinctive shape, dark little figures moving about, huddled next to each other, fearful and whimpering for their parents.

"Poopies?"

"Ah" Cruella said intriguingly as she clapped, two which Alonzo responded by rushing over to her side "Not just any 'poopies'! Puppies with" Cruella grabbed one of the small dalmatians, and held it in the air in front of Jean Pierre. At once, Cruella and Alonzo of exclaimed in a mesmerised fashion, "Spots!"

Cruella and Jean Pierre locked eyes, and Cruella saw in them a disappointment, almost as if he expected something else. She turned her head to Alonzo "Take them back to the car, and stuff them in the trunk, I do not want these puppies to see the light of day again until we are ready to make the coat, understood?". Alonzo obediently nodded, and left.

Cruella turned back to Jean Pierre "It's grand isn't it? I can honestly say it's my greatest idea yet, and that's saying something" she smiled devilishly and Jean Pierre, who still had that disappointed look on his face, a tiredness in his eyes, and obviously something pressing on his mind.

Cruella frowned "Oh, what is it Jean Pierre." she said, annoyed with his lack of enthusiasm "What could you possibly not love about this idea!" She plumped back down on the couch in a pout, exhausted.

Jean pierre came over and sat next to her, looking into her eyes "I remember the day that we decided not to work together anymore" Cruella, sitting up and looking at him, remembered it all to well, Jean Pierre continued "we made such a great pair, like Bonnie and the Clyded Man!"

"You mean Bonnie and Clyde?"

"Exactly, them! When we said our goodbyes, it broke my heart, truly it did, but as time went on, and we were visited by cops and old colleagues less and less, I knew it was for the better. You were the most successful fur fashion designer at the age of only 28, and still hold that role, despite…" Jean Pierre paused, closing his eyes and almost having to force the following out

"When I saw you, on the television that morning, covered in mud and straw and animal droppings, and heard of what you had been caught doing, I was astounded. I felt like all out years meant nothing, our parting meant nothing!" He was noticeably angry now, standing up and pacing "When we stopped our crimes, I knew you would not be hunted anymore, that we both could live honest lives as fashion designers, like we had both dreamt of. I knew if I got caught with anything illegal after that, it would be only a matter of time before you were caught as well. Going straight nearly killed my business, and I had to claw and bite to keep Monsieur Le Pelt alive! But I did, I went through all the customs of fur trapping and buying, bought the best, highest quality stuff in every legal way I could. I distanced myself from every connection I made as a poacher, and I knew it was the right thing to do!"  
He turned and looked back at Cruella, and looked at her for the first ever time with disgust on his face "and what do I hear on the television, what do I hear on the radio and read in the papers? That you had been arrested on animal cruelty charges, that you had personally had hunted down poopies with the intent to skin them and make them into a coat, that you had commissioned poachers to steal the pelts of prized zoo animals, only to decorate your house with them! Tell me Cruella, why in the hell did I struggle to live a straight life, to protect you, only for you to have been destroying your own life all those years!"

Cruella looked at Jean Pierre like a wounded animal, not one she would soon make part of her wardrobe, but one she wanted to nurture back to health, a feeling Cruella could not have imagined feeling, a feeling of compassion, of love. She hated it instantly, and snapped "Jean Pierre, you and I both know how I feel about fur. It is art, it is beauty, it is life! I was ready to suffer in pursuit of my passion, and I paid the price. You wanted to seperate, you wanted to What sort of coward would I be if I simply rolled over and accepted it now? Am I to just let three years of my life be wasted, for and Chloe Simmon to parade Ella around on TV like some fur free buffoon!" She stood up with Jean Pierre, getting in his face "fur is my life, Jean Pierre, I have been seeing spots for years now, and I will have them. And if I see another fur I want, I will have it, I do not care if its on the finest zoo animal in london or the most loyal house dog in the whole world!" She was screaming now, pointing her finger at Jean Pierre's face, stinging him with her conviction. She stood then, hands on hips, waiting to hear a reply

"Ah!" Jean Pierre scowled "It's hopeless! Désespéré!" he chuckled stubbornly "once you set a goal in your head, it is as hard to remove as, well, as a dog from a bone!" he paused calming his tone, then continued "Cruella, when you walked into my trailer today, I did not know what to expect. I hoped you had come to catch up, that maybe time in prison with nothing but your thoughts had made you think of me". It was true, before the treatment started to set in, Cruella had a whole year where she had nothing but her thoughts to keep her company, memories of her old life, and Jean Pierre was a lot of her old life. Once her torture, ash she referred to it as, commenced, she forgot about Jean Pierre, until the bells had snapped her out of her treatment.

Jean pierre continued "But what I expected was for you to come in here on some sort of anti-fur protest! You have been on the television for months now, calling me and your former friends murderers! I welcomed you in, hoping I might be able to talk to you sensibly. Then when you sat down, and started talking, I knew you weren't here to protest. I did not expect this though, not another job!"

"I needed someone with more skill, Jean Pierre, and you are the most skilled I can think of when it comes to this trade!" Cruella tried to reason "I will not go back to House of De Vil, and watch my years go by, dying as the fur queen who was dethroned by a bunch of smelly mutts! Either you help me, or I will be forced to find someone else who will."

Jean Pierre knew there was no convincing her, that if he did not help in pursuit of the dalmatian coat, Cruella would work with some hack that would surely get her arrested again.

With a somber look, the frenchman stared into the englishwoman's eyes

"Okay, a poopy coat it is then" 


	3. Chapter 3: Memories

Cruella was ecstatic, perfectly contempt in getting her way, giddy in her own mental victory. To her, convincing Jean Pierre to take this job was her way of assuring herself she was in control, that after all these years she was still an influence on him, while at the same time he couldn't influence her in the slightest. She held this thought as she walked over to grab the champagne, pouring two more glasses, but when she turned around and looked again at Jean Pierre, her happy thoughts and inner parade of victory vanished. She realized that if someone is victorious, then someone somewhere must be defeated, and that's the exact expression Jean Pierre had. Cruella had twisted his arm into this, they both knew it.

She walked up to him and handed him a glass of champagne. It just won't do she thought how well could he really perform if he mopes about like this. She smiled "Oh come now, Jean Pierre, this will be just like old times, we had fun then"

"We also almost got sent to prison for life, then"

"Jean Pierre, please!" she chuckled at what she perceived as a ridiculous statement "we were young then, we were stupid! With all of our experience now, well if a hundred puppies, an army of barn animals, and london's finest just barely stopped Cruella De Vil, then Cruella De Vil and Jean Pierre will be unstoppable!" she flared her hand up in a bombastic manner, with Jean Pierre raising one eyebrow at her farcical hand gestures. Cruella added in her best fake french "Like Bonnie and the Clyded Man!"

Jean Pierre chuckled reluctantly at her mocking tone "Just like, huh? Just because I agreed does not mean I'll have to enjoy it" he said as he straightened up, his brawny exterior shadowed Cruella's small petite frame, and he spoke cautiously "Cruella, we need to be careful. We do this right, not caution to the wind like we used to. We both have too much to lose, and you've already lost some of it when you went to prison. We need to plan"

As Cruella stood in his shadow, his massive frame blocking out the light behind him, muscles flexing and sweat beading down his stone jaw,that feeling creeped back into her. That feeling of rekindlement, of desire. That word had come back into her head. Forbidden. The forbidden feeling of whatever was moving inside of her took control of her intuition, and suddenly she found her hands moving on their own against the soaked fur on Jean Pierre's chest. She looked up at him, seductively

"All this time we've been talking and you're still covered in this filth." she exclaimed "you should change, then we will celebrate our partnership in a more appropriate manner, all of this serious talk is giving me a headache, these mushy feelings are awful for the skin, darling" she said daintily. Jean Pierre realized that he was still wearing the ruined outfit from his show

"Oh yes, how rude of me, excuse me, please"

With that, Cruella, exited his trailer. They must have been in there for some time, the audience had cleared out, the models had left their outfits dangling on the clothes racks, Jean Pierre's attendants no doubt scurried away the minute they were freed from his barrage of screaming.

As Cruella looked around, she could not shake that feeling, it moved through her throat, in the pit of her stomach, and between her loins, electrifying her at the thoughts. Thoughts of what, Cruella could not figure out. She had not felt this before, not that she could remember. As she walked, her thighs rubbing together under her skirt, pulsating her womanhood with joyus lust, she wanted it to go away. She then looked again at the rack of outfits, walking closer to them. Aha! That must be the culprit! She thought. She noticed the layers of fur the models had just recently been wearing, and attributed her desiring feelings to that. It makes perfect sense Cruella thought three years with no fur, two of those being conditioned to hate it, then all the sudden I land in a pile of fur and attend a fur fashion show? No wonder I'm acting like this she assured herself that must have been the answer, as she refused to accept an alternative desire this strong for anything, or anyone, else.

As she stroked her fingers through the fur, and looked back at the trailer, she grew weak at the knees. She could not stand it anymore, something had to be done about this "distraction" as she was now inwardly referring to it as, refusing to address it as anything positive. She kicked off her high heels, and unzipped her dress, taking it off all in one neatly layered piece. She undid the pins keeping her hair in the spiked mohawk like fashion it had been in, and it reverted back to its naturally spiky and twisted devilish configuration. The cold air had barely any time to hit her naked body as she reached for her favorite fur from the show. It was the lynx baby doll coat dress, Cruella had wanted to try it since the moment she saw it. When she grabbed for it to put in on, the pleasurable sensation gave her a very guilty feeling, a feeling her younger self would have got for stealing her mother's makeup. It was wrong, but in the moment it felt oh so right. The wide circular hood of the dress coat was big enough for cruella to slip her body through the neck, fitting properly into the coat like a porcelain doll. Sliding her hands up the sleeves, she adjusted the hood to showcase her shoulders and face properly, and tightened the golden sash around her waist.

This was the first time Cruella had tried on a fur since she had been released from jail, only laying in her different fur pieces before leaving to come to the fashion show. The sensation between her legs amplified as she ran her fingers through the overly fluffy lynx, hugging her own body with the coat dress wrapped around it. She tilted her head, and laughed like a schoolgirl, moaning and giggling with glee. Mirror mirror on the wall echoed through her head who's the fairest of them all? With her body practically shaking with pleasure, Cruella responded , "You are".

As she began to calm herself down enough for rational thought, she again looked back at the trailer Jean Pierre was changing in. She had an overwhelming urge to go to the nearest mirror by the changing stations, and make sure she was looking absolutely stunning. Cruella always did this, but this time it wasn't for herself, it was for Jean Pierre. Cruella had argued to herself that the fur was causing these immense feelings in her, this stirring lust. She thought to herself poor Jean Pierre is still not entirely convinced this endeavor is in his best interest she fixed her hair, and then took hold of her breast, straightening them and lifting them up, displaying the tops of them through the open hood of the coat dress let us go and convince him

As Cruella thought that, she heard the trailer door open. She turned on a heel, arms still wrapped around herself, the fur of the skirt spiraling around her, showcasing her like a queen. Jean Pierre has simple changed into a nice pair of pants, and a leopard printed jacket, with a simple white t shirt underneath. He stood there, awestruck at Cruella's hasty transformation. She took advantage of his bewildered, and raised an eyebrow seductively "Now Jean Pierre, don't go and start thinking any impure thoughts about a fair lady such as myself" she mocked, walking seductively in his direction "I simply enjoyed the showcase this evening, and wanted to acquire these outfits, free of charge of course, on the goodwill of our new partnership" she smiled cunningly, pressing her body up to his, hand on his pec, her fur clad breast smothered into his lower chest, nipples erect and rubbing against the satin interior.

"Well Miss De Vil, I believe that we at Monsieur Le Pelt would be happy to give you pieces form our showcase tonight, in the name of goodwill of course" He too smilled, cunningly, not one to be out charmed.

"Perfect" She turned around quickly, taking Jean Pierre's hand in her own, beginning to lead him "Come now, Jean Pierre, Let's see if I still know my way around a catwalk".

"What about your little man outside? In the Car?"

Cruella had forgotten Alonzo even existed in this moment. "Why Jean Pierre, did you want to go and keep him company", as Jean Pierre's eyes darted back and forth, following Cruella's rear as it swing back and forth in her walk, he quickly decided he did not.

As she lead him, she could not help but feel a mix of right and wrong. She never let any feeling control her inhibition like this, it is as if she were drunk, dazed on some pheromone in the air. This did not stop her from sitting Jean Pierre down at the end of the catwalk, and walking to the back of the stage. As she walked, she noticed the updraft tickle her womanhood, and smiled. Cruella would not like naughty, she thought it was juvenile, but right now she could not think of a more suiting word. She knew in her head this was wrong, she felt like she was cheating on fur in some way. I'm not sleeping with the man she justified in her head Im merely taking advantage of an unforeseen distraction to further my hold on him. As if I would ever let a man conquer me. Even so, she still made sure she could work it as well as she used to.

Cruella turned on the fog machine that cacaded the stage, and turned on the background music, "Le Freak" by Chic started blasting through the speakers, the song which accompanied all the models as they had worked there way down the stage earlier that night. Cruella walked through the stage opening that was connected to the backroom dressing area, and began to make her way down the catwalk.

As she strutted her hips, marching boldly to an audience of one, the bright lights hit her, and soon enveloped her vision. More memories began to flow into her head, and soon she was transported back to a night very similar to this, with the only thing in the room remaining the same being the frenchman at the end of the stage

February 17th, 1988, Chinese Year of the Dragon Fashion Show, Beijing

Cruella strutted down the catwalk, the flashing of cameras and the noise of the crowd and music all blending with each other into the familiar concoction she had grown used to in her years as a model. The red tube dress she had on made it more difficult for her to walk in stride, and the stiletto heels didn't help either, but the large red overcoat covered up the slightly awkward walking, among other things Cruella was hiding.

At the end of the Runway sat Jean Pierre, a young name in the poaching industry, and incredibly skilled for his age. He looked on with stone face as Cruella made her way down the catwalk. When she reached the end she looked down at him, and the two exchanged a knowing glance, before she turned around and headed back towards the far end of the catwalk. As she turned around she could see two policemen approaching Jean Pierre, but these were no ordinary policemen. From the standard black suits they wore, to the earpieces tucked away in their right ears, and even the way they walked with a authoritative manor, Cruella could tell who they were. The two men were agents of the IEPA, or the International Environmental Protection Agency, and they must be here to ask Jean Pierre a few questions

It had been just a couple years since Jean Pierre and Cruella had met. Cruella was a very popular model in the UK at the time, and she was not one to shy away from fur like most models would to avoid controversy. As a matter of fact, she would almost always work exclusively in it. The public knew this much, what they didn't know was how much Cruella really loved her furs, so much so that any sense of conservation or ethics most people would have were shunned by Cruella. Simply to put, if she wanted to wear it, she would. Eventually word spread of Cruella's true nature, thankfully for her not to the public, but to Europe's underbelly of Poachers and Thieves, of which Jean Pierre had been hailed as one of the most talented, being so young and already making several international zoo and sanctuary raids for prized pelts. Jean Pierre and Cruella met through a mutual acquaintance one day, and hit it off as much as you'd expect a fur model and a poacher to. They met several more times before thinking of something new. Poachers were not designers, they were the grunts of the industry who fulfilled the designers dirty and illegal needs, but Jean Pierre was different, and Cruella saw this. Jean Pierre could imagine, and design pieces to use, not just mindlessly collect pelts for his masters. They discussed Jean Pierre starting a business of his own, a front for their illegal operations. Jean would continue to poach, making illegal outfits, selling them on the fur black market, while he and Cruella both designed legal pieces to feature at shows. This way he would seem less suspicious, and it worked. A team formed and for the last few months they've been working on this job, and tonight was one of the most crucial nights of the plan. The sight of the IEPA agents reminded Cruella that even though they have lost a lot of heat on themselves, having the reputation as the most successful european poacher doesn't go away overnight.

As Cruella made her way behind stage, she sighed with relief and took off her heels, her performance being done for the night. She went to go remove the jacket, but caught herself, remembering what she had on under, and instead made her way for Jean Pierre's trailer. She walked past some other models who were all laughing and getting changed, some still performing being in a rush to get their next piece on. Many looked on to Cruella with admiration, who by this point in her life as a model had been used to the looks. Cruella rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Inches away from her face were the two IEPA agents who'd she'd seen just minutes earlier by the stage. Clever idiots Cruella thought I bet they thought I'd think they'd be questioning Jean, not me. Regardless of this sudden surprise, Cruella remained composed, and looked at the two agents.

"Yes? What do you want?" she said, getting to the point

"Miss De Vil. My name is Agent Stark, this is Agent Tyrell, we are from the IAEP, can we speak with you?"

"Well I've tried telling you group of twits 'no' before, but that never seems to work, so ask away!" Cruella said, annoyed at the formality.

Agent Tyrell replied "Miss De Vil, last week we received reports of a theft at the Las Chinchillas National Reserve in Peru. Over 1100 extremely rare albino Chinchillas were reported missing, as well as 600 extremely rare blue haired far as we know, no other populations of this type exist on Earth"

"Oh how dreadful" Cruella said with a fake expression of anguish, one she knew the agents picked up on "What's even more dreadful is how you for some reason decided to interrupt me during my work to tell me something i'll no doubt read on the morning newspaper!" the two agents looked at eachother, unamused at her lack of caring.

Agent Stark picked up "Ma'am, we have reason to believe that you and your known accomplice Jean Pierre Le Pelt were heavily involved in this theft. We questioned him yesterday and he refused to say anything."

Cruella's eyebrows widened, Jean Pierre mentioned nothing about this. Furious, she replied "Really? Last week a bunch of filthy rats got taken in some mountains, so you decide to fly halfway around the world to China to question two honest working fashion designers because you are too stupid to keep track of all the beast you want to protect" she raises her hand to dismiss them "Go, now, or I shall inform my lawyer and you will both be sued into bankruptcy"

Agent Stark and Agent Tyrell looked at eachother, then back at Cruella "We'll be in touch, Miss De Vil"

They both turned and walked way, and Cruella let out a long sigh and relaxed her posture. By this point in her life, the young Cruella hadn't grown as thick of skin as she would a decade from now, and encounters with the police still frightened her. She quickly made her way to Jean Pierre's trailer, in a line of other small backstage trailers for the other Designers. She opened the door and promptly slammed it behind her, pressing her back against it, shielding herself from anyone else outside. She saw Jean Pierre standing their, gripping a folder filled with documents closely.

"They questioned you, what did they say?"

Cruella made her way over to Jean Pierre "Oh just the usual drivel, they know what they know and can't prove what they cant" she then looked directly at him, pointing a finger at his face "And the next time you get pulled in for questioning and don't tell me, I will remove your manhood understand?"

"Oh, that, that was nothing, nothing at all" Jean Pierre looked at Cruella. He was very cunning, but after a few years of being with Cruella so much, he couldn't con her. "Okay so it was some slight questioning about the Chinchillas, I didn't want to make you worried before tonight. If we got caught, well we'd both be in prison right now! They searched my office, the hotel, everything! But what did they find? About as much as they ever do!" Jean Pierre smilled "Come now, my Inspiration, we are fine, perfectly fine"

"Don't call me that, Frenchman" Cruella said with a sneer at Jean Pierre's pet name.

"Alright, the buyer will be at this address in one half hour, we have to go now" Jean Pierre said, showing Cruella one of the documents in his folder "you still have them, no?" he asked her

"Of course I have them, Jean Pierre, I have both on right now! Let's hurry so so we can get paid!" she said with a smile, taking Jean Pierre's arm in hers leaving the trailer. Jean pierre left one of his attendants in charge as they made their way to his car.

Half an hour later they arrived at the address. A very dimly lit warehouse in a slummy part of Beijing. Cruella hated filth, blood she could handle, but not filth she was hesitant to even step out of the car. Jean Pierre stepped out and breathed in the polluted air "Ah, the Chinese are today's masters of innovation, no regulations stopping them from producing, yeah?" he asked Cruella, as she made her way around the car over to him, the heels she just put on in the car sloshing in the mud, the ends of the red dress getting soaked in brown water

"A street cleaner wouldn't hurt" she said disgusted

They both made their way to a warehouse marked with a number 4, and noticing the light on the outside of the door on, they stepped in. At the other end of the small warehouse, about 20 feet away, stand to large men, about as large as Jean Pierre, in grey suits. Between them sit an older man at a desk, with a blue suit on, and glasses, documents and other papers spread about the desk

Jean Pierre and Cruella made there way to the man at the desk, as Jean Pierre spoke "Ah, Mr. Zheng, how fortunate it is that we are able to meet for a deal once again, I hope you were given less trouble than we, yes?"  
The man, Mr. Zheng, remained seated, and replied "Good Evening Mr. Le Pelt. We were given no trouble, and I hope whatever trouble you had did not follow you here" Zheng turns looks at Cruella "And Miss De Vil, my you look absolutely stunning, as you always do"

Cruella responds with friendly tone "Now Mr. Zheng, flattery will not alter our prices. Even our favorite customers have to pay in full"

Mr. Zheng laughs "Of course, of course. Well, let me see what exactly I will be paying for tonight"

With this, Jean Pierre steps behind Cruella and removes the long red overcoat she was wearing during the show. Cruella spreads her arms up and reveals she is wearing, hidden with her the entire night, two coats, both waist length, one a bright white, and the other a mix of blue and black, both unmistakably Chinchilla.

Cruella looks over at Jean Pierre "if the perverts would have frisked me like they used to, then they would have found exactly what they were looking for"

"Yes, but a swift kick in the crotch certainly stopped them from doing that again, didn't it?" they both smile at each other.

Jean Pierre removes the Blue haired Chinchilla coat from Cruella's shoulders, leaving the bright white albino haired coat wrapped around her, as she models it for the prospective buyer.

Jean Pierre speaks, "Mr. Zheng, you are no novice when it comes to the illegal fur trade, so I will get right to the point. We have 9 albino coats already made, along with 5 blue haired coats. We have more chinchillas we are keeping for breeding, and you can expect more product from us in the near future, I assure you. These are the rarest pieces we have ever made, and thus the price goes up. We are asking $500,000 a piece for the albino, and an even $1,000,000 for the blue haired. Once purchased, these will be shipped to you within a week, and you will be free to sell to whatever rich russian trophy wife comes to buy her illegal coats from you. And believe me, , they will pay much more than what I am charging you now" Cruella raised her eyebrow and the mention of 9 coats. She could have sworn they made an even 10. Regardless, she did not want to correct her partner in front of a customer, and instead put her hands on her hips, showcasing the fur rather nicely.

looks up at Cruella, then at Jean Pierre. After a moment he answers "Alright, Mr. Le Pelt, you have a deal"

After much formal discussion, where the pick ups will be, what bills to use for the cash drop, and absolutely nothing written down to avoid evidence, the deal was made and Cruella and Jean Pierre were back in their hotel suite, enjoying two glasses of wine.

"$9.5 million , Jean Pierre!" Cruella said, in total disbelief "That's something most in our profession only dream of. Imagine what those sewer rat poachers back in Europe will be thinking when they hear their old friend Jean Pierre just made close to $10 million!"

"Yes, my inspiration, we most certainly are going into legend". He smiles, sipping his wine as Cruella draws the shades to the room. She looks back at him with a puzzled look, and questions him

"Jean Pierre, now I just said about $10 million, not exactly. We definitely had 10 albino Chinchillas, I remember that much exactly. Do not tell me one was lost Jean Pierre, you know how dangerous that could be!" She starts to get nervous

"Well, maybe it is lost, you should look around for it" Jean Pierre says in a slightly drunken stupor, laughing as he does. Cruella looks at him, squinting her eyes in annoyance. He continues "No, No, really, look over that way for it maybe it is out running away, maybe I didn't kill them before I sewed them together"

Cruella impatiently turns on a heel and looks around "Jean Pierre, this is not funny, I swear to god if that coat is gone, you will be finding somone new to work with so help me-" Just as she is about to finish, she feels a warm envelope her shoulders. Her skin comes into contact with the same furry sensation that was wrapped around her under the long red overcoat all night. She turns her head to look into a little vanity mirror in the living room of the Suite, and see draped around her shoulders the tenth albino chinchilla coat, and Jean Pierre pressed up against her.

He speaks "Now, my inspiration, will you hush" he says as he slowly moves his hand down the front of her body, over her breast and slowly in a v pattern to the tops of her thighs. Cruella leans her head back, her spikey black and white hair brushing against Jean Pierre's face. She quickly stops him.

"Jean Pierre, I have a surprise for you as well. But this time, you have to turn around" she says, moving his groping hands away.

Jean Pierre, more buzzed and less cunning than normal, does so without question. As he does, Cruella backs away from him slowly. After several seconds, and hearing clattering on the floor, Cruella speaks.

"Alright Jean Pierre, turn around"

As Jean Pierre turns around, he sees standing about five feet away from him Cruella, with nothing more in her hands than just a minute ago, as a matter of fact, she had a lot less. Her half raven half white hair messily splayed around with, spiking in all different directions, complimenting the bright white albino coat that barely covered her perky and erect bare breast, stopping mid waist to leave the rest of her naked body totally exposed to be looked upon by Jean Pierre. She covered her left hand with the coat sleeve, and slowly massaged her breast, biting her lip as she did.

With one look they both knew what they wanted. Cruella quickly darted at Jean Pierre, like a lioness looking for the kill, and leapt up on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her thighs around his waist. Being so petite compared to him, Jean Pierre was easily able to pick her up and hold her, carrying her to the bedroom of the Suite as they both kissed passionately, beginning to fondle each other as Jean Pierre kicked the door to the bedroom closed, and as Cruella began to moan loudly. 


	4. Chapter 4: Sickness

Cruella opened her eyes, although she wished she hadn't, the intense stage lights beating down made her pupils ache. The back of her head hurt like someone had smacked her, and the rest of her body didn't feel too far behind in pain. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a figure, she looked over and saw Jean Pierre kneeling over her, holding her hand with his.

"Mon Dieu! My God! Cruella, are you alright? Such a fall, so sudden, you've been out for ages!"

Cruella sat up, and looked around. She was back on the stage where Le Pelt's fashion show had taken place, the room completely empty still, save for himself and Cruella. She looked down to find herself wrapped up in the Lynx babydoll coat dress she had out herself in to. She looked over at Jean Pierre, still hazy and confused

"What happened? Did someone hit me?"

"No, madame. You were walking down on the runway, and all of the sudden splat! Poof! You just dropped and smacked your pretty head on the floor. You've been unconscious for about 10 minutes, I phoned an ambulance not two minutes ago!"

"So I...fainted?!" Cruella had never fainted, it showed a certain weakness she didn't think she possessed. Cruella started to get a sick feeling in her stomach, the kind of feeling that told you whatever was wrong was serious, and it was near. As she stood up, Cruella became flush with the memories she dreamed, they became clouded and mixed, like the ingredients for a cake, what were easily picked apart could no longer be separated, the only thing Cruella knew is that these memories we're making her violently ill.

"Call of the ambulance, darling, I am not going to a hospital" Cruella said, in a shaky and breathless voice that could only have power and dominance because it was spoken by her.

Cruella felt like she was wearing heels, despite being barefoot. She looked over at Jean Pierre, still holding her arm, keeping her steady so she would not fall again. The sickly feeling in her gut suddenly picked up, to the point where she doubled over. Jean Pierre bent down with her, intent on catching her if she fell for a second time.

"Oh, my sweet, you really should go to the hospital"

His voice, his touch, his attitude, it all made Cruella sick. His hands on hers, keeping her upright, gave her all the slimy and cringey feeling of having a viper coil it's scaly body around her arm. She couldn't stand the feeling any longer, she needed to leave

"Get your hands off of me!" Cruella ordered, yanking her hand away. It took the strength that ten men could not possess, but Cruella managed to keep herself upright, and began moving away from Jean Pierre. She walked down off the stage, and made her way over to Jean Pierre's trailer

Without looking back to him, she shouted "Where is the bathroom in this pigsty of a fashion house?!"

"Oh, well, it's to your right, walk about 10 meters from my trailer, it's a women's room, very large." Jean Pierre shouted at the retreating Cruella. "You need me to follow, no? You can barely stand!"

Cruella gagged slightly "Jean Pierre don't you dare come anywhere near me!". As she hobbled towards the restroom she picked up her pile of clothes she had worn here, she needed to leave as soon as she could. "Just get on the phone and tell that ambulance to turn around!" Cruella added.

Jean Pierre, with layers of confusion and sympathy on his grizzled face, dashed for the nearest phone he used only minutes earlier to call the ambulance.

Cruella finally reached the women's room. She had several rules about how to conduct herself in public. Never use public transport, never ask a stranger for anything, never be seen by press in a poverty stricken part of the city, never interact with people from those parts of the city unless business related, etc. The rule she was about to break was never use public bathrooms. In her mind, public bathrooms were disgusting cesspools for the poor to defecate because they had not the curiosity or foresight to go in their own homes before departing. However, at the rate Cruella's stomach was turning, she would have walked straight into a sewage plant to relieve herself.

She quickly stumbled over to a toilet, just in time for a flurry of vomit to smack against the porcelain and mix into the stagnant smelling water. She knelt down in front of the toilet for what felt like hours, her stomach getting none the better. For a moment, when the sickness subsided enough for her to breath, she collapsed back, sitting on the floor with her back against the wall of the stall.

The temperature inside the stall seemed to rise at an alarming rate, Cruella soon found herself in an oven of metal walls and tiled floors. She had never felt this warm before, she was always very icy cold, just how she had liked it, the only time she felt at normal temp was in fur. _Fur._ the word made her bend over in pain, a dagger punching through her abdomen from the inside. Her skin began to feel itchy, and soon pain, as a million finely tipped needles bore into her skin. Cruella looked down at her body, the top of her breast visible from the baby doll dress. Her chest was covered in hives, and a deep shade of red. Cruella began to feel faint, almost passing out again. She couldn't breath. She was confused. She was alone. She was angry. With the unrelenting anger only alive in the heart and soul of Cruella De Vil, she kept herself awake. She stood up, despite the crippling pain. She needed to cool herself down, she was so hot. It was too much, for the first time since she had taken over her mind from Ella, Cruella had decided the fur needed to come off.

As she gripped the dress, her hands were sliced, she winced back, and looked at her palms. No marks, just an intense shaking. Cruella took a deep breath, and regripped the dress. Fighting through the pain, she was able to strip herself of the dress, and threw it across the floor, under the row of sinks next to her dragon dress she had been wearing earlier. She collapsed down, exhausted from the ordeal. Her body began to slowly stop shaking, the hives had started disappearing, and the needle like stabbing had gone away. Cruella sat on the floor, naked and huddled like an abused animal, slowly realizing why she was in this state

" _The fur! The fur made me feel this way?!"_ Cruella thought to herself. Again, Cruella vomited into the toilet, but this time she knew why, she was sick at the reality of what just happened. She had a violent reaction to being in fur.

After the last blast of puke was expelled from Cruella's stomach, she stood up and wiped herself down. She felt much better now, like a composed and elegant human being, despite spending the last 15 minutes sick in a bathroom stall. As she walked over to the sink to wash herself down, Cruella looked above the mirror and read a banner.

" **Monsieur Le Pelt's 7th annual fashion show!"**

" _Le Pelt...Jean Pierre"_ suddenly the memories she had hallucinated during her unconsciousness all fell into place. The coats, the agents, the partnership, the hotel room…

Cruella's sickness came back with a vengeance. The sink filled up with regurgitation before her stomach calmed down.

Cruella had never let a man conquer her, whether it was the firm boot she had planted on Alonzo, or the fear she struck into her designers, Cruella had always been in charge of the men in her life. The very thought that she had given herself to one. There was nothing left in her stomach to come up, but Cruella still gagged. Her life didn't make sense anymore, all she knew was that she needed to get home.

She quickly stepped into her dress, the intimidating colors of the dragon made Cruella's eyes hurt, but it's the only thing in this building she could wear without becoming sick. Her make up was akin to a Jackson Pollock painting, luckily her dress had the veil to cover her face. Another rule of Cruella, do not be seen in public without looking your best, and then some.

Cruella threw in her heels and placed her hand in the decorated dragon head muff, and quickly walked out of the bathroom. She stopped for a moment by the pile of fur on the ground, the plush lynx baby doll coat dress that she felt like a predator in, she felt so relieved just an hour ago to be back in and around fur. Bending down towards the coat, she slowly began placing her hand out. Only a few inches away from touching it, Cruella's hand cramped up and her whole body began shaking. Fighting for breath, she backed off from the coat, and left the bathroom in a quick pace.

Jean Pierre, sitting on the edge of the stage, perked up when he saw Cruella exiting the bathroom.

He greeted Cruella "Oh, my inspiration, I thought you were dead in there for a minute. The ambulance is not coming, so I hope you're feeling better. Need something, need to sit? Come and sit in my trailer for a while, until you feel better!" he started over at her to help her walk

Cruella did not look at the Frenchman, his voice alone making her queasy. She continued forward, toward the exit, with her dominating stride, a facade covering her very real submission to the pain.

She yelled loud enough so he could here her no matter what direction he was in, "Jean Pierre I'm fine, and don't you dare touch me! I'm going home, it's best we are not seen anywhere near each other for a short while, until I can figure out the next step of our plan. I have your contact info, I'll call you when I'm ready. Do not call me first! Do not attempt to come to my property until I address you first!" Cruella reached the exit and placed her hand on the handle, waiting a moment before stepping out into the cold.

Jean Pierre stopped in his tracks, and responded "Well, if you're sure you're alright, I suppose. I will prepare my shop in Paris for our spotted friends while you set your master plan in motion!"

 _Spots_

Cruella was almost sick on the door in front of her, but stifled her gag long enough to reply.

"Okay, whatever darling, just don't contact me!"

And with that, Cruella exited the building and made her way down the abandoned sidewalk to where her car was parked.

A clock affixed to the front of a bank read 2:15 AM. Cruella, composure now regained after being out of the building for a few seconds, came up to her car. Alonzo was fast asleep in the driver's seat, luckily he left the doors unlocked, not that it would matter much considering how Cruella had ripped the doors off once or twice before.

She got in and sat, taking out a cigarette and lighting it, she yelled

"ALONZO! Wake up! We're going back to hell hall!"

Alonzo jolted upright in his seat, and instinctually opened his own door to get out and let Cruella in, before realizing she had already been in the passenger seat. Alonzo, stopping himself, was taken aback. Cruella loved to drive, she would speed and go head on into oncoming traffic, drift and smash into mailboxes, all with the laughter of a school child, which is why he was shocked when Cruella simply lit her cigarette, kicked off her shoes, and huddled in her seat, staring out the window.

Alonzo spoke up "Well m-madam are you sure you don't want to d-drive, it's a lovely night to hit a f-fruit cart or smash into-", suddenly, Cruella's hand, still wrapped with her large golden dragon muff, smacked Alonzo across the face

"JUST DRIVE!" she screamed, starting daggers into Alonzo

"Of course, m-madam" he stuttered, and they were off

It was 4 AM before Cruella finally got herself into bed. She kicked off her Rex rabbit pelt bedspread, still feeling sick at the site of fur, and lay in her bed with nothing on except for her silk covers. She had just spent an hour in the bathtub scrubbing herself, feeling absolutely disgusting and dirty for what she had done all those years ago, for what she let herself do. For some reason, though, she felt even filthier and disgusted beyond that, and she couldn't tell why. Cruella rationalized it just must be the separation from her furs, luckily that blathering idiot Ella had a convulsion when she came home and found the entire upstairs decorated in fur, and forced Alonzo to keep them all in the basement. Cruella noted it was probably a good idea to keep them down their, in case Chloe Simmons popped in for a surprise inspection

Despite her head rushing with all kinds of memories and feelings, she soon drifted into sleep….

Cruella awoke in the dark. She couldn't feel her covers on her anymore, yet felt even more claustrophobic, she could feel what felt like a suit buttoned around her. Cruella leaned over to turn on the lamp on her desk, when her arm suddenly jerked still and couldn't be moved further.

" _What the hell? What is this"_ Cruella thought, as she began moving her arms and legs, all of them bound down and clinking metallically, no doubt some form of chains.

As she was ready to burst into a rage of yelling and screaming, a light on the ceiling above came to life. Cruella was in a padded room, maybe 4x4 meters at most. She lay on a flat metal bed, her arms and legs restrained by heavy industrial chains. She was dressed in black and white stripes, her old prison dress, the dress given to her when she started her run of experiments with-

"Dr. Pavlov…" Cruella said in a hushed, confused tone. The padded door she was facing swung open, and in through it walked Dr. Pavlov, lead psychotherapist at the London Institute for the Criminally Insane.

"Good evening Miss De Vil" Dr. Pavlov said, looking down at a clipboard in his hands, attached to the top corner was a picture of Cruella upon her arrest, marking the sheet of paper as Cruella's file. The Doctor had a very slow, lumbering pace, almost like a giant, but at the same time his limbs were very bouncy and springy, like a marionette puppet. He was just very unnatural in his movement, Cruella thought, no wonder he worked in the basement of a prison.

He held a large duffle bag with him, which he placed on a metal chair in the corner of the room.

"Sorry for the chains" he said "I know they must be uncomfortable, but after you so effortlessly broke out of your last restraints and bit me last time, well, I couldn't take any chances" he smiled wickedly as he stroked the black and white striped stocking on Cruella's legs "don't worry, I didn't report you to the warden, although I understand how the added time for the assault would have garnered more therapy that you love so much" he squeezed her calf and smiled.

Cruella gritted her teeth and flexed her arms, the chains straining to keep her down. She screamed "You absolute imbecile! Let me out of these chains at once! I said I was done with this torture, I have my rights!"

"Ah, Miss De Vil, you _had_ your rights, of course, before you signed them away in a contract that would reduce your sentence in exchange for taking part in therapy" Dr. Pavlov responded, putting the clipboard on a small surgical table and reaching into his bag. Out of the bag he pulled a metal box, adorned with dials and gauges, sprouting two wires with suction cups on the end.

Cruella winced at the site of the box, straining her neck to get her head away, but Dr Pavlov quickly grabbed her by her hair and forced her head back, securing a tight metal bracket fixated to the table around Cruella's neck.

"A leash for an unruly dog, almost?" Dr. Pavlov laughed, as he fixated the two suction cups to each of Cruella's temples. Cruella began to jerk more violently, but to no avail, she was firmly stuck in place on the table, waiting for whatever form of torture The doctor had in store for her today.

Dr. Pavlov reached back into his bag, and pulled out a large fur coat, dyed red and black, made from now extinct Tasmanian Wolf pelt. This was the coat that Cruella was wearing when she was arrested, and the one she so proudly adorned in her file photo. The Doctor draped the coat over the back of the chair, removed two small picture frames from his bag, and placed them both on the surgical table.

He went to the small box and turned a dial, the machine then came to life with a menacing static ticking. At the same time, a camera fixated at the top corner of the room came to life, recording the session.

writing something down on his clipboard, he spoke to Cruella, giving her the same speech "Now then, Miss De Vil, you have been tried and found guilty of dog napping, assault, animal endangerment, animal cruelty, trespassing, and robbery. For the remainder of your sentence, you are to undergo constant therapy and monitoring. If my methods succeed, you will be released. If you refuse to cooperate, you will serve the entirety of the 25 year sentence the court had originally ordered, is that understood?"

Cruella furrowed her brow and cussed at The Doctor , "When I'm released from here, the first thing i'm doing is skinning you alive, is that understood?!"

Dr. Pavlov smirked "I'll take that as a yes then". The Doctor stood and looked at the camera, addressing it, "The subject demonstrates a clear lack of sympathy, unnatural amounts of anger and inhumane strength, all stemming from some psychological impairment. Subject has been observed while in normal custody to use her looks and skills with negotiation to subdue and command guards, almost escaping on several occasions. A typical femme fatal if you will."

Cruella smirked and laughed "Foolish men, will kneel in servitude for anything in a skirt" she said as she remembered sweet talking a guard into letting her out of her cell after hours in exchange for a kiss, only to throw the guard over the railings. After that, all of Cruella's guards were women, and even that was beginning to show cracks before her therapy began and she was moved to special containment. For the last 3 months, Cruella had no contact with anyone, besides Dr. Pavlov.

Dr. Pavlov continued "Subject shows extreme displeasure in most things involving nature, wild life, and anything living in general. Subject shows extreme pleasure in every aspect when shown, or given, fur clothing or pelts of animals. Subject has shown increased states of euphoria when given fur, on the subject of fur, or mentioning death of animals, no doubt a severe form of Zoosadism. We will observe this now using the scanner attached to her head, when she is presented with fur".

Dr. Pavlov puts the clipboard down on the surgical table next to the two frames, and walks over to Cruella. He lays his boney hand over Cruella's abdomen.

Wincing and scowling, she barks, "Don't you dare touch me you pig! You absolute idiot, I swear I will kill you!" She screams. Dr. Pavlov, unphased by Cruella's wrath, slides his hand under the buttons on Cruella's prison dress. The dress, argued, would be a way for Cruella to differentiate between fashion and fur, so if she was cured, she could return to normal society and continue with her work, and not end up unemployed. The dress was complete with stockings, opera gloves, high heels, earrings, a pillbox hat that read "6660", which was Cruella's prisoner ID number, all of which were stripped black and white. At first, when given it to wear instead of her tattered orange jumpsuit, Cruella was thrilled. But since it's all she ever wore, with no changing or bathing since the therapy had begun 3 months prior, she felt like 's doll, some play thing, a show dog he dressed up, if she was allowed access to mirrors she would be sick to look at herself.

Her heels clicked against the metal as she twitched when the icy skin of Dr. Pavlov's fingers came into contact with her porcelain skin. He slowly moved his hands under the front buttons on her dress, before quickly ripping it open, exposing Cruella's bare breasts, illuminated by the bulkhead light above. Cruella lay there, stripped, and fearful. She was never fearful, not in her whole life, but of , she learned what fear was.

The Doctor walked over to the fur coat and brought it over to Cruella. He dropped it over her and left it there for a second, as he reached back over to the table and turned the small box towards him.

As Cruella's nipples hardened with the soft fur caressing her, she began to feel relaxed. A security blanket to keep her safe, her beautiful fur coat protected her from all in the world at this moment.

A loud crash wrang out and Cruella's eyes shot open in pain. Sharp knives poked the back of her eyes and her brain was on fire. She screamed loudly as her ears were filled with an electric explosion. Every muscle in her body tensed up, she checked herself involuntary pressing against the metal collar that restrained her, slowly squeezing the life from herself.

Suddenly it all stopped as Cruella relaxed her muscles and gasped for air. She looked over at Dr. Pavlov, as he was lowering a dial on the small machine. He looked to the camera

"So far, we have made progress with most forms of conditioning, whether it be drug enhanced, negative reinforcement, audio and visual hallucinogenic enhanced, drowning, lashing, choking, burning. Subject has responded with aggression to all, but has noticeably improved with all. Still, the unwavering love of fur and suffering has remained part of the subjects psyche, which is why we have moved on to electroshock therapy". Dr. Pavlov again cranked the dial, this time noticeably higher, leaving it on

Cruella jerked violently screaming as the machine did it's work. Dr. Pavlov moved over to the table and placed his hands on the fur coat, massaging and caressing it into Cruella's bare flesh, fondling her with the soft fur as she screams in agony. He shuts the machine off, again addressing the camera.

"The subject will associate the constant electrical shock with the fur and other objects we will show her momentarily. Given the subjects psychological illness, I will start with a minimum of 5 hours of electroshock therapy per day, for the next month."

The next few hours were filled with constant fluctuation between pain and pleasure, the soft and warm fur, followed by the gritting shock of the machine, slowly frying Cruella from the inside out. Throughout the session, Dr Pavlov presented the frames to Cruella. One showed a picture of her dalmatian puppy coat, surrounded by various furs in her collection. He placed the picture in front of her face, as she tried to raise her hand and caress the photo of her darling children, "Miss De Vil, fur is why you are in here, you tried to kill puppies, a hundred puppies, you are evil, and this photograph is why". cranked the machine, sending Cruella into another fit of spasms, before turning it back down. The other, a portrait of Jean Pierre, taken sometime when him and Cruella worked together, was presented to her. Dr. Pavlov smirked at Cruella when she looked fondly at the picture "you've told me about this man, your nights with him, your partnership, it is bad, it is not good for you" as he held the picture directly in front of Cruella's face, he cranked the machine all the way up, shocking Cruella to the point her neatly dome shaped hair started to spring out into twisted curls. When Cruella first started therapy she told Dr. Pavlov all about her past with Jean Pierre. Cruella, of course, told him to stuff it when first questioned, but after brought in a fur from Cruella's collection and burned it infront of her, she spoke when told to do so.

After 5 hours, the torture had finally ended. Cruella lay there, naked and afraid, as Dr. Pavlov packed his things to go. He began to fold the coat up, and looked back at Cruella. With a devilish smile he thrusted the coat towards her. Cruella screamed, and tried to turn away from the fur, before coming to her sense and realising what it was. Dr. Pavlov smiled and looked at the camera

"The subject has made remarkable improvement in just the first day, electroshock therapy seems to be working wonders!" He said, before moving over towards the camera. He reached up and removed two wires from the back of the camera, disabling it.

He lumbered over to the metal chair, now moved close to the operating table Cruella still lay on, her makeup smudged and he clothes stretched. Dr. Pavlov had his own form of therapy he had been working privately with Cruella for the past 3 months they had been meeting, and Cruella began to shake.

He spoke to her, softly and pervertishly, "Oh Cruella, in all my years I have never met a patient as remarkable as you. So set in your mind, you're my greatest challenge yet". He began to stroke around Cruella's abdomen, caressing her waist "you're a wonder!" Dr. Pavlov exclaimed, before standing up and kissing Cruella's breast. As he began fondling her and climbing up on the table, Cruella turned her head away. Instead of fighting, screaming, kicking or cursing, all she did was cry.

"Oh darling, why do you continue to be so...cruel" the angelic voice whispered to Cruella.

"Go away" Cruella said, depressed and defeated, huddled up in her padded cell, the only noise was the sound of dalmatian puppies barking being played over a speaker, fed to her 24 hours a day.

"Oh come now, it would be so much fun if you just let me in control, just for a tinsee winsee little bit, no?" The voice said, as it began to materialize.

Across from Cruella stood a woman. Hair black and white, neatly shaped like a large dome, which had been the hairstyle mandated for Cruella since beginning therapy. She looked like Cruella in every way, save for a few details. This women wore pink lipstick instead of red, her face was more powdered and white, she wore pearls and gold jewelry instead of jewelry made from animals bones and black. The woman wore porcelain white gloves with no nails, instead of the black gloves with claws like Cruella had always worn. She stood across the room, in a tight white dress, buttoned all the way down to her feet, and long white robes, wrapped around her head, topped with a wide brimmed hat. The woman looked like a couture nun.

Cruella started laughing "my word, Ella , you look absolutely dreadful tonight. You look like you were dressed by little orphan Annie!" She begins laughing uncontrollably, until slowing down and finally stopping, slinking back down into her own filth and dreadful state.

"My my, you're such an awful woman" Ella balked "the things I could do if I were in contact would make the De Vil name one of great peace and kindness"

"Which is why you'll never be in control" Cruella snapped "you fur hating freak! You're not real! You're some dreadful personality those bastards out there came up with to get me to 'behave', but I'm not breaking, I'm not giving up on fur, and I'm not giving up on what made me this way!"

"Oh honey, the fur is gone. Once you're out of here you'll either be me, and want nothing to do with it, or you'll die in here!" Ella snickered "Your business is crumbling, you're the laughing stock of london. All because of some irrational lust for the pelts of animals cruelly killed" Ella cried out, getting angrier.

"I'm not talking to you anymore, you're not real!" Cruella yelled at her alter ego, as she got closer to Cruella. She bent down and carressed Cruella's face with her hand, and smiled

"Oh darling, you'll just never learn will you. Have fun being whore, I'll be back tomorrow" Ella laughed as she evaporated into thin air.

Cruella screamed at the fading apparition , throwing one of her heels at it, only to hit the wall behind her. Cruella's eyes welled up, as she laid down and hugged her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"You're not real, you're not real, and you'll never be real!" She cried the rest of the night

AUTHORS NOTE

to anyone tuning in for this chapter, I apologise for the long wait. Life caught up with me and I just wasn't sure where I wanted to take our favorite villainess Cruella from here. But I'm happy with the story I'm setting up now and we'll learn more about her past, see more from Miss Di Ablo in the next chapter, and find out if Jean Pierre and Cruella will make it.

Thanks so much to all of you who view it, I am so thankful and would love to hear feedback


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